A Father for Zach. Irene HannonЧитать онлайн книгу.
soft flush colored her cheeks, as if she was embarrassed by her reaction. “Thanks.”
She limped through, tugging Zach along with her, but he pulled free. “We’re not crossing a street, Mom. And there aren’t any strangers around. We know Nathan now. You don’t have to hold my hand.”
As he dashed ahead to wait at the adjacent door, Catherine’s flush deepened. Averting her head, she led the way to the second door in silence, inserted the key in the lock and pushed it open. Gesturing Nathan inside, she remained on the threshold as he and her son entered the room.
Catherine’s assessment had been correct, Nathan concluded, inspecting the sorry wallpaper and faded vinyl floor covering. This room was in worse shape.
He shook his head. “I hope the part of the house you’re living in is in better condition than this.”
“Nope,” Zach chimed in. “There were spiders in my room when we moved in. Yuck!”
“Just a few. And they’re gone now,” Catherine corrected her son before answering Nathan’s question. “It’s livable until we get the guest quarters fixed up.”
Her response suggested it wasn’t much better than the room in which he was standing. Making him wonder what had compelled her to buy such a fixer-upper.
As if she’d read his mind, she folded her arms across her chest and regarded him from the threshold. “Prices are very high on the island. Especially property. This was the best I could afford. Besides, it met my criteria of keeping our home and the guest quarters separate. I wanted to maintain some privacy.”
She glanced around the guest room, her features tightening in pain as she shifted her weight to relieve the pressure on her injured foot. “This property used to be owned by an older couple, but they hadn’t visited for a long time. And this section has been ignored for years. According to the Realtor, after the woman’s husband died she became too feeble to travel. But she hung on to this place because it held a lot of happy memories for her.”
“Kind of like you kept those hiking boots you’re wearing, huh, Mom?”
At Zach’s comment, she sucked in a sharp breath. Before she could recover, the youngster continued.
“My mom and dad used to go hiking a lot when I was little. Mom says my dad used to carry me on his back. That was when we lived in Atlanta, before my dad went to heaven.”
As Zach’s last comment echoed in the empty room, Nathan tried not to let his shock register on his face.
Catherine’s husband was dead.
Now he knew why Zach had been with her at the wedding instead of at home with his dad. And why she’d planned to tackle this job alone.
It also explained the deep sadness in her eyes when their gazes met for a brief, compelling instant before she jerked hers away and took a clumsy step back.
“So…do you want to bid on the job?”
“Yes.” His response was immediate. The work was within his abilities, and he wanted to spend more time with these two people who seemed in such desperate need of a friend.
“Could you get back to me by tomorrow with a number? I need to move on this quickly.”
“I can give you an estimate now. For labor, anyway. We can adjust it if the project is finished sooner.” He’d been doing some mental calculations as they’d looked over the structure, and he’d already estimated the number of hours it would take to complete the work.
Her eyebrows rose. “That’s fast.”
He shrugged. “I know about how much time I’ll need. The math after that is easy. And if I finish sooner, the cost will be less.” He named a dollar amount.
When she frowned, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, if that’s too much, we can negotiate. And if you need a reference, the pastor at the church I attend can vouch for me. I’ve done a couple of jobs for him in the past three weeks.”
“It’s not the reference. It’s the bid. I probably shouldn’t say this, but—that’s on the low side for Nantucket. Prices here are high for everything.”
“It seems like a fair wage to me. And I don’t have a lot of expenses.”
“Well…if you’re sure. Can you start Monday?”
“Yes.” A surge of elation washed over him. He’d gotten a job! Maybe not much of one. But it was a start. And that’s all he needed right now. Just someone to give him a chance. To believe in him. To trust him.
Zach grinned up at him. “Maybe you can be my friend, Nathan.”
“Honey, his name is Mr. Clay,” Catherine corrected.
“Actually, Nathan is fine with me if it’s okay with you.” He managed to coax his tense lips into a smile. “I’m not much into formalities.”
He waited for her to reciprocate. Hoped she would. But she didn’t.
“If that’s what you prefer.” She moved away from the door, and Zach and Nathan exited. Once they were out, she locked it and tucked the key into the pocket of her capris. “I’m going to put my foot up again. We’ll see you Monday. Come on, Zach.”
She started to reach for his hand, but when he backed off, she let her arm drop to her side. Then she headed for the door that led into the main house, on the other side of the breezeway.
Zach’s farewell was much warmer and delivered with a megawatt smile. “Next time you come, I’ll show you the toy soldiers my grandma and grandpa sent me from Germany, okay?”
“That sounds great.”
Beaming, the youngster trotted off to follow his mother inside. A moment later, Nathan heard the distinctive sound of a lock sliding into place.
Retracing his steps down the gravel path in front of the house, he mounted his bike and set off for town, mulling over all he’d learned today—and wrestling with a new question.
Why had Catherine Walker moved far away from her home to start a new life in a rundown house on an island where everyone was a stranger?
As Nathan pedaled toward town, the answer eluded him. Yet one thing did become clear. While some of his questions about the beautiful violinist and her charming son had been answered today, a lot more had cropped up to take their place.
On the plus side, though, if all went well with the job he’d have ample opportunity to find some answers.
No. Scratch that. There was no if about it. Everything would go well. He was done messing up his life. He might not be able to delete the dark chapters, but he was determined to fill the ones yet to be written with light and grace.
And maybe, with God’s help, he could help a wary woman and a lonely little boy do the same.
Chapter Three
“My goodness! That’s amazing.”
At Edith’s comment, Nathan swiveled in his seat, paintbrush in hand. His landlady was staring at the canvas on the easel he’d set up in her garden, just outside his rental cottage. Her lips were slightly parted in astonishment, the chocolate-chip cookies and glass of milk she was holding apparently forgotten.
Feeling self-conscious, Nathan picked up a rag and wiped a smear of paint off his hand.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t have any training.”
“Who cares? You have talent. That’s even better.” She moved closer to examine the painting of a little boy on a beach, his head tipped back to the sun, arms lifted, his face the embodiment of joy and innocence and optimism.
“I saw the pen-and-ink drawing you did of The Devon Rose as a wedding present for J.C. and Heather, but I had no idea you were such a talented